


Oh, how I've known the battle scars

by KeepingTheStarsApart



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Season/Series 03, Siblings, This is NOT a fix-it fic, Trauma, it's a deal-with-it fic, more relationships will be added, this is just me dealing with my season three trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20753063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepingTheStarsApart/pseuds/KeepingTheStarsApart
Summary: July 5th, 1985When the sun first rises over the smoldering remains of Starcourt Mall, they're still in the hospital.





	Oh, how I've known the battle scars

**Author's Note:**

> So I found these drabbles that I wrote right after I first watched Season 3, and thought I'd make something out of them. It's basically little snippets of what I imagine might have happened in the days right after the battle of Starcourt.
> 
> I've read many great Fix-It fics for Season 3, but please note that this is not one of those. Nobody's coming back to life here, and we're dealing with it Like Men (which means crying and obsessing over it for months, but what can you do).
> 
> Titles are from Gran Torino by Jamie Cullum, mostly because I rewatched the movie last week.

**July 5th, 1985**

When the sun first rises over the smoldering remains of Starcourt Mall, they're still in the hospital.

It's been maybe five or six hours since they closed the gate, but Nancy can't be sure. She only knows that it feels like she's been sitting in this chair forever.

They're all in one tiny waiting room, so tiny that there aren't even enough chairs for all of them. Every now and then a nurse will come in, check somebody's blood pressure or bandages, ask if anybody needs to go to the toilet, and leave again, pretending she's not locking the door behind herself.

Nancy feels like she's stuck in a trance. She hasn't slept; can't even close her eyes for more than a second. She's too scared that when she opens them again, something bad will happen again, somebody else will be dead.

Instead, she keeps stock of everyone in her head, lists them up and down, lets her eyes wander over every bowed head, again and again: 

Jonathan and Joyce, in the chairs right next to hers, with Will sprawled over their laps, asleep. 

Dustin, Lucas and his little sister, in the row of seats opposite them, equally knocked-out.

Steve and Robin, in a corner on the floor, talking quietly. 

Max, in another corner, curled up with her knees pulled in, face hidden, unmoving and silent, but never asleep.

She skips Chief Hopper, stomach clenching every time, and lingers on El and Mike, whom she hasn't seen since they first got here in a caravan of ambulances. With her leg torn up and her broken sobs echoing through the hallways, El was the only one to get a bed in the ICU, and Mike refused to leave her side for even a second. 

The door clicks and one of the nurses shuffles in, eyes averted. A while ago, Nancy and Joyce tried to stare her down to get any sort of information out of her, to no avail. Now, she sets a plate of cookies on the small table next to the untouched one that's already there, then she kneels down in front of Max. Talks to her in a whisper so quiet, Nancy can't pick it up. 

For the first time in ages, Max lifts her head, nods very slightly and heaves herself up off the floor.

Next to Nancy, Jonathan shifts and tenses. 

"Max?" he asks quietly.

"All good," she mutters, waving a hand and sounding like she's got a bad head cold. Then she follows the nurse out and the door locks behind them.

When the door opens next, only a couple minutes later, Mike is there, and Nancy finally breaks out of her stupor.

He stands in the doorway for a second, bleary eyes wandering around the room, taking stock, until they find her.

His face _crumbles_.

He's across the tiny room in three long, shaky strides and she scrambles to her feet just in time to catch him.

"Nancy," he sobs into her shoulder and her heart shatters into about a million pieces. 

He clings to her like never before, feels small and breakable in her arms, even though he's grown so tall. 

"It's okay, it's okay," she whispers, voice failing, "You're okay."

"_She_'s not," Mike all but whimpers in response.

The reality of what her little brother just went through - watching his injured girlfriend mourn the loss of her father, after battling an other-dimensional monster, and not being able to help - it blindsides her and it's all she can do not to cry along with him.

"I know," Nancy breathes, "I know, but she will be."

She pulls back enough to take his face into her hands, eyes the cleaned cut on his forehead and wipes at the wetness on his cheek.

"We'll all be okay."

It's a testament to how bad he must be feeling, that he doesn't flinch back, just lets her fuss over him without so much as a roll of his eyes.

"Are you hurt anywhere else? Did somebody check to see if you're concussed?"

He nods weakly. "They said to tell them if I started to feel sick."

"Are you?" she asks, frantic.

"No. I think I'm fine. Are _you_?"

Is she?

"Yeah," Nancy whispers, "yeah, of course. Did they take Max to see El?"

"Yeah, she... they gave her something to make her go to sleep a while ago, but I didn't... she can't be alone when she wakes up and I just needed to... I just-"

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay. Max will look after her. Come on, come here, let’s sit down."

Gently, she pulls him to the side, away from her narrow plastic seat, and they slide down the greyish wall onto the floor.

She puts an arm around Mike, pulling him in, and he slumps against her side.

"Where's Mom?" he sniffs and puts his head on her shoulder.

Nancy presses her lips together tightly. 

"I don't know, Mike. They haven't brought anybody else in. None of us left the building since we got here. I don't even know if Mom knows where we are."

"She's gonna freak," Mike notes, exhausted.

"She is," Nancy agrees, absent-mindedly running her fingers through his hair, goes through her list.

Jonathan, Joyce, Will. 

Dustin, Lucas, Erica. 

Steve, Robin, _Mike_. 

El and Max, somewhere close. 

No Hopper.

The pang in her chest reminds her of something.

"Mike?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Wha'?" he slurs, growing heavier next to her.

"I'm _sorry_. I left you behind. The car wouldn't start and Billy was about to crash into us, and then Steve crashed into _him_ and the-- that _thing_ came after us... And I didn't even realize that you guys hadn't come out yet. I'm so sorry, I should've stayed back to come find you."

She squeezes her eyes shut against the tears, but one escapes - she wipes it off impatiently.

"...Mike?"

She turns her head a little, squints down at her little brother.

He's out like a light, cheek smushed against her shoulder, shaky breathing slowly staring to even out. Despite everything, it makes her smile. He's right here, he's safe, and god knows she'll keep it that way.

She lets her head fall back against the wall, finally closes her eyes, and waits for sleep to find her.

\----------

Max could hear the sirens all night. 

They still haven't stopped, growing louder and quieter on a loop as the go back and forth between Starcourt and Hawkins Memorial. Even if they would finally fall silent, she wouldn't be able to sleep. 

Every time she closes her eyes, she can see it happen all over again, sees one terrible tentacle after the other shoot forward and bury itself in her brother, sees the way he slumps and falls, chokes on black blood, sees his eyes boar into hers one last time, sees him die.

She keeps her eyes closed, anyways, and pretends she isn't torturing herself on purpose.

She's curled up on the hospital bed next to El, in Mike's place. That should be weird, maybe, but Max doesn't care. El is her friend, now, too. Over the last few days, she thought they might even become best friends. She doesn't know if that's still possible after everything that's happened since they last shared a bed, reading Wonder Woman until one in the morning.

She doesn't know how long she's been there, can't remember when Mike left; her sense of time has gone amiss somewhere between fireworks and ambulances. 

Eventually, she can feel El stir awake next to her, but Max doesn't open her eyes until she talks.

"Max?"

Her voice sounds so broken, it almost kills her.

"I'm here. You're okay."

El turns her head, slowly, and if Max thought her voice was bad, it's nothing against the look in her eyes. She knows her own eyes probably just look dead, empty, but El's are filled with more emotion than she's ever seen on anybody's face. It rips her heart apart.

"Hop," El whispers.

"I know. I know, I'm so sorry."

"I don't- I can't... he's _gone_. I'm all alone again and they will make me go back to the lab, to Papa, I can't-"

Max pulls her in close, then, wraps an arm around her shaking shoulders, and as El sobs into her chest, she wants to do the same. 

"You're not alone, El," she says, tries to sound strong, sure. "You're not. You've got Mike, and you've got the Party - you have Dustin and Will and Lucas, and also Nancy and Jonathan and Steve and- and Joyce, you have Joyce, she'll look after you, I'm sure she will. You never have to go back, El, I promise."

El pulls back a little, until they're face to face, two girls whose worlds just got upended.

"Do I have you?"

"Of course. Of course you have me, El."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"He saved my life. But I couldn't... I couldn't save him. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

For a moment, Max is afraid that her voice is going to fail her, but she works through it.

"No, you did. You did save him, El. You brought him back. He was himself again when he died," she says around the lump in her throat, "I saw it in his eyes."

"But he still died."

She closes her eyes again, waits for the flashbacks to pass. Takes El's hand in hers. 

"I think he was dead the moment he crashed at Brimborn's, El. Even if we'd been there sooner, if we could have stopped the monster... think about all the chemicals. And he wasn't himself when he did it, but a lot of people died because of him. Billy was an ass, but I don't think he could've lived with himself after this. You brought him back long enough for him to choose his way out. He died saving us. That's a pretty good way to go, isn't it?"

They look at each other, and Max knows El is not only thinking about Billy when she says, "Yes. Pretty good."

"It's going to be bad for a while," Max whispers, and El is blurry around the edges as she nods. "But we're gonna help each other through it, okay? We'll be okay. I promise it's gonna be okay. I've got you."

El keeps nodding, and smiles, even as both of their tears are soaking the pillow.

"And I've got you."

\----------

<

p>Robin's still wearing the stupid sailor’s uniform.

Her memories are blurry, but it must've been over two days now since she last changed her clothes. And as though being trapped in a secret Russian underground bunker wasn’t bad enough, she’s now been stuck in the hospital all night long. 

After the initial shock had subsided for most of them and with nothing else to do, they spent hours catching each other up on the events of the past few days. And while the overall connections of their individual endeavors were starting to make sense, Robin still couldn't begin to wrap her head around half of it. It didn't help that the Russian drugs, while keeping her remarkably calm in the face of absolute craziness, still made her brain feel fuzzy and slightly disconnected from everything.

Neither did things get any less complicated with the fact that she had to be caught up on two years’ worth of events right out of a fucking sci-fi novel - in comparison to monsters from alternate dimensions and little girls with superpowers, even Back to the Future seemed like a reasonable story.

But at least she had something to focus on, millions of questions to ask, answers that needed to be discussed, until there was nothing left to say.

Now, though, in the early morning hours, the tightness of the room and the reality of not being able to leave is starting to get to her. The waiting room is not much bigger than the elevator was, crowded with people instead of boxes. It doesn't help that the drugs finally and completely wore off about an hour ago, or that she hasn't slept in about as long as she's been wearing the uniform. 

Every time a nurse comes by, she jumps at the chance to go to the bathroom, just to look out the windows on the way there and remind herself that she's not miles underground.

Steve helps, too. 

They're squeezed into the corner farthest from the door, tucked between the walls and a little row of plastic chairs. Robin's got her knees pulled in, toes tucked against Steve's thigh. Steve himself is slumped against the other wall, head tipped back to look at the ceiling, fifth ice bag of the night pressed sloppily against his eye.

On the chair right next to him, Dustin is curled up with his head drooping so low, it nearly reaches Steve's shoulder. Next to Dustin, Lucas is sprawled out like a starfish, with Erica tucked into his side. All three of them are asleep, exhaustion having finally won out over adrenalin a while, and she almost envies them.

"Hey," Steve suddenly says, snapping her fingers in front of her face like the nuisance he is. "You still with me?"

"Yes, dingus," she sighs, pushes his hand away, "Still here."

"It's tomorrow," he lets her know and makes her think that maybe the drugs haven't left him as fast as her.

"So?"

"So, are you alright? You said to ask tomorrow."

He's such a dweeb. 

"I'm fine, Steve. I just wish we could leave. My mom is probably going crazy."

Steve hums, shifts the ice bag from his face to his gut. "I think we're waiting for Doc Owens."

That sends involuntary shivers down her spine. _Doctors_.

"Who?"

"Oh, he's the guy who brought the cavalry. The one who helped Hop-" he clears his throat, "the one who helped Hopper adopt El."

Right, she vaguely remembers that guy from story time before. There were so many names.

"And what does he want from us?"

Steve shrugs weakly. "Ask a million questions, then make us sign about a dozen of those, you know, those documents the say you can't tell anyone what really happened?"

Robin furrows her eyebrows. "Like, non-disclosure agreements?"

"Yeah, those. I think that's why they haven't brought anybody's parents in, yet. So we can't tell them anything that's gonna mess up their cover story."

"What cover story?"

Steve shrugs. "I dunno, they'll come up with something. Gas leak caused an explosion. Mall collapsed because of faulty construction. Anything that'll explain away the death of four dozen people but doesn't involve Russians or monsters from alternate universes."

"Or both," Robin mumbles, and her brain is threatening to go offline if she thinks about the utter absurdity of everything one more second. "Forget I asked."

She's struggling to change the subject - it's probably too soon to talk about new job ideas, right? - when distraction presents itself in the form of Dustin.

The kid jerks away all of a sudden, making both Steve and Robin jump in their anxious state, and flails around in panic for a moment. 

"Hey, hey, buddy," Steve is saying, grabbing Dustin's wildly swinging arm before it can hit him in the face. "It's alright, you're awake now, calm down."

Dustin blinks down at him, comprehension dawning on his face.

"I'm sorry," he swallows, "Dream."

He leans forward to put his elbows on his thighs and takes a look around at the room.

"Any changes?"

"They took Max to see El and Mike is back," Steve points to where the two Wheeler kids are sleeping in the other corner, "but other than that, nothing."

Dustin rubs his hands over his face so his voice comes out muffled when he says, "My mom?"

"Sorry, buddy," Steve sighs, "No idea."

Robin watches with sympathy as Dustin nods into his hands and wipes at his eyes when Steve’s looking away.

This boy might be the weirdest kid she's ever met, but in the past 36 hours, he’s had to step up and deal with things no 14-year-old should have to. Robin feels her chest flood with sympathy.

"Hey, kid, wanna come down here and join our circle of trust?" she waves her hand around, "You can go back to sleep. Steve's way more comfy to lean against than those chairs, aren't you, Steve?"

Steve meets her pointed look with confusion, glances at Dustin again and says, "Oh, yeah. The comfiest."

Dustin takes a couple deep breaths, then get to his feet and carefully steps over their feet. He slides down the wall and awkwardly squeezes himself into the narrow space left between them, curled up like a ball. 

Robin stretches her legs and props them across Steve's, then gently pulls Dustin's legs over hers. They make a weird, cramped puzzle, down here in this tiny corner, but Robin thinks maybe it's okay for now.

Steve reaches over to pull off Dustin's ridiculous hat, then pats down his curls until the younger boy gets the hint and leans his head against Steve's shoulder.

Under drooping eyelids, Dustin's eyes find Robin's and he gives her a small smile. She squeezes his knee in response and tips her head back. If she just keeps breathing, and focusing on the people around her, maybe she’ll be fine. 

Maybe they’ll all be fine. Judging by the stories she’s heard tonight, they’d sure deserve it.


End file.
